20th April, 1998


Now this is more like it: sparkling singles everywhere you turn...

Single of the Week

"I'm Leaving" by Lodger



Lodger are a bit of an indie supergroup, with vocalist Pearl from Britpop almost-were's Powder, a couple of blokes out of Delicatessen and a Svengali-like involvement from the drummer from Supergrass. The sum of their parts is this gloriously debauched and wasted duet between Pearl and the male vocalist, similar only in concept to the recent Space/Cerys road accident of a single in that it deals with the break-up of a relationship between two people that hate each other. No Welsh underpant target can save this pair though as they flare and burn out in a lazy and glorious supernova. Some wonderfully bitter and twisted lyrics ("(him) sleazy little number that I want you to wear - (her) shove your dirty thoughts and put a comb through your hair" and "I'm just sick and tired of being your skinny whore" - now there's a slogan for a t-shirt) spiral around a music hall style piano backing echoing Suede or The Auteurs at their most vaudeville-obsessed as a wonderfully liquid chorus oozes from a crack in the surface. Beautifully wicked and fascinatingly compelling.

"Ciao (Demo)" is a speed-fuelled knees-up about curry & chips and werewolves that again owes a little debt to Brett, conjuring up images of glamourous wasters inhabiting the shadows of suburbia. The wonderfully-titled but disposable "Jacko's Baby" ("will it be black or white?") closes the single in fazed and dazed fashion, but nothing can dispute the wonder that is "I'm Leaving" - single of the year so far.

Rating: 10/10

The Rest

"Not If You Were The Last Junky On Earth" by The Dandy Warhols

More wide-eyed and fazed-out glam from Courtney's maverick band of US beautiful people with a song you should be familiar with given it's on the radio every 5 minutes. With its "heroin is so passe" refrain, this worms its way into your head and demands you whistle it til your lips crack. The Dandys psychedelic wall of noise erects itself before you as Courtney's bed-ridden vocals drawl away like some wasted version of James Dean - cooler than ice cream Snickers and ten times as sexy. Not an anti-drug song, but an anti-addiction number; to paraphrase Geri Spice it is almost as addictive as the narcotic it mentions. They're cooler than you and boy do they know it.

A horribly reedy live version of the a-side is next, which does not hold a syringe to the full-on rush of the studio version. Then we get (deep breath) "It's A Fast Drivin' Rave Up With The Dandy Warhols Sixteen Minutes" (which is of course 7 minutes long), another live track that sees the Dandys hijacking The Stooges and The Velvet Underground then taking them for a breakneck joyride cross country, smashing through territory previously travelled by MBV, Spacemen 3 and any other band that's ever played too long with a kaleidoscope and those funny-smelling fags.

Whilst everyone else around them is full of pre-millenial tension and paranoia, The Dandy Warhols are busy planning their 1999 New Years Eve shagfest with two lorry-loads of drugs and sixteen beautiful South American prostitutes. You can kinda see their point.

Rating: 9/10

"Buzzin'" by Asian Dub Foundation

Meanwhile, back in reality...Asian Dub Foundation blast out from a deserted multi-storey car park in the city at night with this storming slab of drum n bass backed hip hop, an infectious Eastern riff being pierced at a million miles an hour by a needle-sharp rhythmic assault. This is the kind of record that every kid should be required by law to play at full volume in their bedroom whilst their parents try to have tea with the neighbours downstairs. Punk's not dead - it's just evolved into this kind of finger-extended and fantastic racket.

The "Dylan Rhymes Remix" of the a-side is the first extra track (I bet Norman Cook wishes he'd got there instead), which stretches the song out into seven minutes of alternating undulating and explosive noise. "Digital Underclass" follows, a slower and more dub-based number that challenges the likes of Massive Attack for the malevolence crown. Some sexy Asian rhythms filter through the instrumental's mix, making this an exotic and original trance-inducer.

Asian Dub Foundation deserve a high chart entry with "Buzzin'", but I sense even the indie-loving mainstream would run screaming from this, seeking solace in the less challenging and less threatening likes of The Prodigy. Times have changed, indeed.

Rating: 9/10

"Craska Vegas" by Toaster

Why commit yourself to one genre when several will do? That's where Toaster are coming from with this obtusely-titled EP. "Peoples' Peoples" is the first on offer here, a rocky barbed thing that assimilates New Wave, Baggy and Britpop in one huge unavoidable juggernaut of a single. Then "60ft Rocket" takes over with its Heavy Metal hillbilly hellfire that sounds like Black Sabbath covering "Duelling Banjos" whilst The Charlatans ride around the swamp shooting crocodiles. Marvellous.

"Jamaican Room" pops up next (pops up...Toaster...oh, never mind), a slower and more sinister track that smoulders along nicely, scorching your fingers if you try to fast forward. The Gothic revival starts here, next Wednesday, at midnight. Bring your own mascara, cider and pet rat. Last on this impressive EP is "Phoneheads", an epic cinematic journey the likes of which The Orb used to take you on. Sweeping and momentous, in a Vangelis sort of way, it plays as the screen fades to black and the credits roll.

Worth it for "60ft Rocket" alone. Originality, it's a wonderful thing.

Rating: 9/10

"Spark" by Tori Amos

I have a soft spot for Ms Amos (no - not there...behave), and "Spark" sees her firmly back in Kooky (copyright Kate Bush) mode, sitting at the piano tossing her flame-coloured mane around and staring at you in that slightly scary but strangely alluring way. "She's addicted to nicotine patches", she begins, levitating above an alien landscape as a third eye opens in her forehead and a luscious and sensual tune emanates from her fingertips (hey - and you thought Crispian Mills was mad). Worthy simply for not following the Alanis Morissette/Sheryl Crow squawking road to ruin, Tori Amos is out there on her own, surrounded by figments of her own imagination that she luckily sees fit to share with us.

"Do It Again" follows, finding Tori coming over like an operatic version of Bjork, enveloped in bass sounds (piano, drum, synth) as she exorcises a folk-tinged tune from her head. "Cooling" is last, a gentle and touching piano-based ballad, the kind of thing that knows where to touch you in order to make you shiver.

The sonic equivalent of an arthouse movie, Tori Amos inhabits her own world, one that you can take a trip to every now and again, but can never fully understand. But it's a memorable trip indeed.

Rating: 8/10

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